Leave It to Beavers
by Erestor
Summary: A concussed elfprince, a bored ranger of the north, and a disgruntled beaver are pitted against each other in a battle of... well, not wits, in this case. Forest fires rage, tomatoes hurtle through the air, and Erestor really couldn't care less. A parody.
1. A Foe So Terrible, Yet So Unassuming

**Leave It to Beavers**

**by Erestor**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing pertaining to _The Lord of the Rings_. This story was written for entertainment purposes, not money, and also to prove that I'm still alive. Enjoy!

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Of all the woodland animals, beavers are rarely considered the most dangerous. They are semi-aquatic rodents. They live in lakes. They are neither small nor large, and have thick, paddle-like tails and brown fur. Out of the water, they waddle, and this is cute. They also have very large, orange-colored teeth, which are less cute, but these are not threatening teeth. Looking at a beaver, one would imagine that these teeth could do nothing worse than take a few fingers off some unsuspecting animal-lover. But if said animal-lover had no respect for an animal's personal space, he or she would possibly deserve to lose those fingers.

In Rivendell, the amusing anecdote is told of the time Elrond had a tree chewed out from underneath him while he was sleeping in it. It is said that the moral of the story is this: the Noldor should not climb trees, because any attempt to do so will end in disaster. I believe it has a second moral, which is: it is not safe to underestimate beavers. They are dangerous little animals, and I have told my fellow Elves so many times.

This is not a treatise on beavers, however, although beavers play an integral part in the following drama. This is the story of two of our greatest heroes, who took it upon themselves to save us from a threat dire beyond our comprehension. Throughout the years, they had fought evil in its many guises, but a foe so terrible, yet so unassuming, they had not encountered until last week.

This is how it began.

But six days ago, a tall, handsome Elf walked silently through the woods, feeling euphoric and happy about nature. So great was his state of euphoria and happiness that he did not notice a beaver emerge from the nearby lake. It waddled briskly to a tree and began to gnaw on it. This is something beavers do a lot.

Our unsuspecting hero sighed, oblivious to the birdsong and sinister chewing noises. He was, as I have said, a very handsome Elf, with sleek blonde hair, grey eyes and a grim, brooding expression that remained on his face even when he was feeling euphoric and happy. He sat down on a log by the lake (_between the lake and the trees_, I'll have you note) and proceeded to ponder his unique circumstances.

I call them unique because they were the sort of circumstances that happened only to him. They happened to him so often, however, that they could hardly be considered special.

What had happened was this: the Elf had left his home a month before, intending to go on a short walk. A series of unexpected events (a thunderstorm, an avalanche, an attack by goblins, and a small forest fire) had brought him closer and closer to Rivendell. Also, these events had left him with no way of returning to Mirkwood until in the later summer, when all the melted snow from the avalanche would allow him access through the mountain pass again.

This wouldn't have been much of a problem. Legolas was always welcome in Imladris, for he had saved it from destruction several times. Nonetheless, Legolas felt embarrassed because similar events three years previously had forced him into the same situation. He envisioned himself going to Rivendell and throwing himself upon the hospitality of Lord Elrond without any warning whatsoever — and with the same farfetched story to explain his sudden appearance and inability to go home.

"Wasn't there a thunderstorm, avalanche, goblin attack and small forest fire last time?" Lord Elrond would ask.

"No," Legolas would say. "Last time I was attacked by mad dwarves, and there was no thunderstorm."

"It was winter," Lord Elrond would reply. "If I recall correctly, it was a blizzard that brought you to Imladris three years ago."

"But that was just a blizzard, not a thunderstorm. So it's not quite the exact same thing..."

Legolas was so absorbed in envisioning his conversation with Lord Elrond that he remained oblivious to the sinister chewing noises. But he was not so oblivious as to be unaware of the sound of something heavy and wooden falling towards him.

He turned around slightly, glanced up, and a tree hit him on the head.

* * *

I think everything turned out the way it did because Aragorn was bored. It's like he only feels fully engaged in his life when he's in serious agony and ruing the day he was born. That's the way it seems to me, at least. 

Aragorn was bored because he hadn't seen Legolas for many long months, and thus, he hadn't experienced any horrible injuries during that time, except for once when he had tripped and tumbled off the porch, tearing his arm open and requiring stitches. But that sort of thing can happen to anyone (or any _mortal, _I should say), whether or not Legolas is present.

When Aragorn found Legolas in the woods, thoroughly unconscious and concussed, Aragorn immediately concluded that something large and terrible had sneaked up on our valiant Elf-prince and walloped him over the head with something really big and heavy. Although it is often said that Aragorn is a skilled tracker, he failed to notice the slide marks where the beaver, unmoved by Legolas's suffering, had dragged the tree away.

In all fairness, I'll say that Legolas did look pretty awful, like he'd been mauled by something and then rubbed all over with mud. Legolas is usually so immaculate (no matter what happens – at its worst, a goblin attack will only put a few of his hairs out of place) that the slightest trace of dirt on him is shocking. Coming across him in his condition, Aragorn was shocked indeed. At first he didn't even recognize him.

We humble denizens of Imladris became aware of Aragorn's discovery shortly after he made it. This was because Aragorn came charging into Elrond's study with Legolas slung over his shoulder. This is not something we see every day. Every other week, maybe, at the most.

"Look!" Aragorn said, like we weren't looking already. If we'd looked harder, our eyeballs probably would have popped right out of our heads. "Look at this!" Aragorn said, every word dripping with his horror and consternation. "Look what they did to him!"

With this, Aragorn plonked Legolas down on Elrond's desk, and I sighed to see all my beautiful paperwork get smeared with whatever Legolas had been rolling in.

"What _who _did this to him?" Elrond asked, convoluted with astonishment.

"I don't know!" Aragorn cried. "I found him like this. But we know that not just anyone could sneak up on Legolas and knock him unconscious!"

"Whoever sneaked up on Legolas did not come from behind him," Elrond said, standing up to examine Legolas in a methodical manner. "The injury was inflicted from the side."

"He may have turned around at the last moment," Glorfindel said, coming over and peering down at Legolas's limp form.

"Yes, true," Elrond said. He stroked his chin. "His skull may be fractured. Certainly there's a lot of bruising."

"Very little bleeding, though," Glorfindel said, stroking his chin too.

I could not help but feel that my nice, quiet afternoon had taken a somewhat macabre turn. I could also not help but resent Aragorn for his lack of decorum. Had we ever, at _any_ point during his upbringing, given him the impression that desks were things for putting dirty, wounded people on?

I resented Legolas too, just for showing up and getting hurt. I wished he would find some way to be more original and less theatrical.

Aragorn picked up Legolas again and we all trooped to the infirmary, where the medical analysis continued. Elrond and Aragorn find intriguing the whole concept of poking at people's wounds and deriving (supposedly) important information from them. Glorfindel doesn't understand a word of it (he's better at inflicting wounds than analyzing them) but likes to look as though he knows what he's looking at. I myself find it all a waste of time. Legolas was unconscious. What more to it was there? He might have turned around at the last moment, but why did we care? Turning around certainly hadn't helped the situation.

I eventually grew bored and went away to do something more productive, such as eat dinner.

* * *

When Legolas regained consciousness, he remembered little of the moments before he was attacked. This did not prevent him from agreeing with Aragorn that only something large and terrible could possibly have sneaked up on him and struck him down as his assailant had. Something with a big, wooden club, Aragorn surmised, noting the pattern of tree bark on the side of the Elf's face. 

"It already injured you," Aragorn said. "Who knows who it will attack next? Maybe even attack and eat?" (Aragorn's personal theory for Legolas's injury involved trolls.)

"We must slay this beast before others fall prey to it," Legolas said. (Legolas's personal theory involved some hitherto undiscovered creature, possibly with many legs and teeth.)

Legolas was apparently as bored as Aragorn had been. The storm, avalanche, goblin attack, and forest fire had not cured him of his love of adventure, and a beast in the forests near Imladris provided him with a good excuse for running around with all his weapons, fighting evil and saving lots of people from dying in an untimely manner.

Perhaps Legolas also felt slightly embarrassed by his predicament, which was unique indeed. He had been rendered unconscious by some invisible creature, and that didn't happen every day. Previously, it had never happened at all. He probably felt that he could save face only by hunting down and killing the monster (with Aragorn's help, of course) and dragging it back to Imladris in triumph to be displayed somewhere in the Hall of Fire.

Aragorn and Legolas discussed the problem and came to a few conclusions. They decided that 1) they, and only they, could destroy Legolas's attacker, 2) anyone else who set foot outside Imladris was flirting with a grisly death, and 3) Sauron must have been responsible for creating the beast and sending it to Imladris. They agreed that they should go out and hunt the deadly creature, while everyone else stayed indoors, cowering in fear (although this part wasn't absolutely necessary), and... well, at present they couldn't really do much about Sauron.

When Aragorn and Legolas came to tell us the course of action they had agreed upon, Elrond and Glorfindel were too kind-hearted to make any objections. I suppose they thought it was nice to see Aragorn with excitement in his eyes and violence on his mind again, when previously he had been drifting around listlessly like he didn't have anything to do.

I was not so kind-hearted. I did not plan to indulge their silly fantasies. I had suspicions of my own, and wasn't about to start panicking because some invisible monster was running around bashing King Thranduil's offspring with a big stick. It was about time, really. Several of King Thranduil's offspring practically _deserved _to get bashed. We'd all been waiting for this day. I voiced my doubts, but Elrond elbowed me in the ribs while Glorfindel trod on my foot, and I got the impression that they wanted Legolas and Aragorn out of the house for a while.

"All right," I said. "Go and hunt this beast. But don't expect to find it."

No one paid any heed to me, which would have been insulting if I weren't already used to such treatment. In the end, my deterrent probably had the opposite of its intended effect. Aragorn and Legolas hurried away to pack their beast-hunting gear, and I'm sure they were set on finding the beast just to spite me.

Every day for the next three days, they strode bravely into the forest, and every day for the next three days they returned to Imladris with nothing to show for their trouble but short tempers and a few briar-inflicted scratches.

Every day for the next three days, Glorfindel and I had the same conversation.

"Really, we should tell them before something bad happens," I would say, usually whispering fiercely to him in the hallway, afraid that someone would overhear me .

Glorfindel always replied in the same way, with the same annoying laugh. "Nonsense," he would say. "What could possibly happen? There's nothing out there that could hurt them. Let them amuse themselves."

In truth, I think they were amusing Glorfindel much more than they were amusing anyone else, themselves included.

* * *

To backtrack a bit, on the day Legolas and Aragorn decided that there was a dangerous beast rampaging in the woods of our home, Glorfindel and I had walked to the lake where Aragorn had found Legolas. I wanted to walk there by myself, but Glorfindel told me that he would come along to protect me from the monster. (I was supposed to be cowering in fear in Imladris, after all, not hiking through the forest.) I think Glorfindel was as curious about Legolas's attacker as I was, and so he wanted to see the scene of the incident as well. 

When we reached the lake, I walked around it, examining the ground for clues. I came at last to the muddy imprint of Legolas's sprawled body, and there I stood for a moment, staring at this mark with –yes, I confess it!– a feeling of vindictive amusement.

"Beavers," I said.

Glorfindel looked at me as though I had suddenly started speaking Dwarvish. He's incredibly dense. I've tried hard, but I can't understand why all the elf-maidens love him so much. They must be very superficial, to prefer him over me.

I sighed, pointed, and enunciated clearly as I spoke. "Look," I said, pointing to the gnawed stump of a tree. "Look," I said, pointing to the place where Legolas had lain prone. "Look," I said, pointing to the slide mark and the little beaver paw prints. "Beavers," I said, pointing to the beaver's lodge and dam.

"Legolas was attacked by a beaver," I said.

This was so obvious a conclusion that even Glorfindel could see the sense in it. Maybe there is hope for him.

"Ah," he said. "Of course."

"We should tell them," I said. I was already envisioning the expressions on the faces of Aragorn and Legolas when I told them that Legolas had been attacked by a beaver, of all creatures, and hit over the head by a tree, of all things.

They would be horrified, I thought gleefully.

"No," Glorfindel said. "Why should we tell them? Let them have their fun. They need something to keep them occupied while Legolas is in Rivendell. I'd rather they were occupied with hunting beavers than occupied with spurring Elladan and Elrohir on to greater feats of pure insanity."

This is true. Elladan and Elrohir are calm, serious individuals until they are in the same room with Aragorn and Legolas (or even the same building, sometimes). Then they tend to experience a total shift in personality. If only one of them had been affected in this way by the presence of Legolas and Aragorn, it would have been unnerving. When both twins suddenly become full of 'fun' and 'mischief', the result is simply frightening. I like them more when they are grim and vengeance-driven.

"Maybe you're right..." I said slowly.

"Of course I am."

"But they might get hurt," I said.

"They might get hurt doing anything," Glorfindel said. "You may not have noticed, but Aragorn and Legolas get hurt all the time in the strangest of ways. It is their fate. We cannot save them."

"Maybe you're right..."

Glorfindel gave me a shrewd look, and then said, "If you tell Legolas or Aragorn about the beaver, I will tell Lord Elrond that you—"

"No," I said, whirling around to glare at the other elf. "No, you will not."

Glorfindel smirked at me, and I decided to recover my poise and treat him to a little righteous indignation.

"Whatever makes you think that blackmailing me will keep me silent?" I asked.

"It worked last time," Glorfindel said.

Unfortunately, this was true. I stood with my mouth open for a moment, and Glorfindel's smirk widened to an evil grin. "Oh, very well then," I said ungraciously, turned, and stomped away.

So perhaps Glorfindel isn't as dense as I had believed. Fantastic.

* * *

On the fourth day, everything changed. For the worse, I might add. 

The first bad thing that happened involved Lindir. This wasn't surprising. Lindir is somehow involved in most of the bad things that happen in Imladris. Often, I must admit, he is the victim. Occasionally he is the instigator. In this case, he was more like a harbinger of doom... no, that's not quite right. In _this _case, he was the harbinger of surprise birthday parties. It seems to me that the words 'doom' and 'surprise birthday parties' could well be synonymous.

Anyway, it so happened that I caught him practically skipping through Imladris, a garland of flowers in his hands, and asked him what he was doing. A few minutes later, the truth was out.

"_What _did you say?" I asked him. "A _birthday _party? A _surprise _birthday party?"

Lindir gave me one of his self-effacing little smiles. "It's a human thing," he said.

"I know that," I snapped. "My question is: why was I not informed? Was the party to be a surprise for myself as well?"

Lindir's smile faded."They told me not to tell you because you'd try to sabotage it!" he said, wriggling. I watched his expression grow yet more miserable as he slowly realized that he had betrayed his lord by informing me of this.

"Now why would I want to sabotage Aragorn's surprise birthday party?" I asked, striving for some outer calm. By the way Lindir sort of wilted under my gaze, I'm guessing the attempt failed.

"Because everyone knows you hate him," Lindir said.

'Hate' is a very strong word, much stronger than_ dislike_ and even stronger than _can't stand_. I shook my head in sad rebuke. "How can you say such a thing, Lindir?" I asked. 

"Sorry," Lindir said, wriggling even more and looking as though no smile would ever cross his face again. "I meant to say that everyone knows you _loathe _him."

I blinked. "I don't hate Aragorn," I said. "He can be quite amusing sometimes."

"I think you're amused by all the wrong things," Lindir said, and bolted, leaving only a few petals in his wake.

I stared after him, trying to make sense of what was happening. I'd been sure that Lord Elrond had an ulterior motive for sending Aragorn out of the house, but this wasn't the motive I had suspected. This motive was almost _noble._ If Lord Elrond wanted to provide a nice surprise birthday party for his foster son, such a party would not be undeserved. Aragorn had spent his last birthday in a dungeon in Angmar; the year before that, he'd celebrated his birthday in slavery in Harad; the year before that, he'd been eating rats in a smelly little jail in Gondor; the year before that, he'd been lying feverish in an infirmary bed in Mirkwood (which is nearly as bad as any jail, believe me); the year before that, he had been unconscious in a cave for the entire day, which was probably a good thing, since if he'd been conscious he would have had to deal with the stress of the rats eating _him _and the year before that... well, pain and suffering on Aragorn's birthday was something of a recurring theme.

I toyed briefly with the unpleasant thought that Aragorn, by celebrating his birthday in Rivendell, might bring his trouble with him.

I shouldn't have worried about this, because this is where the second bad thing comes in. It occurred on the evening of the fourth day. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that the second bad thing involved something _not _occurring.

We watched and waited, but Aragorn and Legolas did not come back.

"Told you so," I said, even though I hadn't.

"Oh, do be quiet, Erestor," Glorfindel said.

"Well, it's not my fault," I said. "I warned you. I said you should have told them about the beavers. I knew that something bad would happen. I knew they would vanish like this. It was absolutely inevitable. I knew—"

"Since you knew," Glorfindel said dryly, "I suppose you would like to be the one to notify Lord Elrond of his son's mysterious disappearance?"

I snapped my mouth shut.

"Thought so," Glorfindel said, looking faintly amused despite himself. "I'll do it, then. Don't rush to thank me."

As Glorfindel wandered off to find Lord Elrond, I sat and pondered the many possibilities. I needn't have bothered. The reason for Aragorn and Legolas's delay was something that lay beyond even my powers of imagination.

The beaver was involved, of course.

**TBC...**


	2. A Raging Inferno, Vile Smoke and All

**Leave It to Beavers**

**by Erestor**

**Disclaimer:** Same as before.

Thank you for reviewing! I really appreciate it.

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Aragorn and Legolas, looking for trouble as usual, had, as usual, been found by it. They tell their stories so that it sounds like their lives are just one big thrilling adventure. Circumstances would seem to indicate otherwise. (Usually Aragorn and Legolas tell their stories from the comfort of an infirmary bed. When I dream of big adventures, broken ribs and puncture wounds don't even come into the equation.)

Aragorn and Legolas's current circumstances were as bad as ever. In short, they were in trouble. A vast inferno raged on three sides. Bits of charred leaves, little more than ashes, fluttered through the air. Vile smoke billowed past them, doing bad things to Aragorn's lungs. (But he smokes his pipeweed so much, I don't suppose a little more vile smoke made much of a difference to him.)

"Told you so," said Legolas.

"No, you didn't," Aragorn said.

"Well, I would have told you if you'd let me," Legolas said. "I _thought _I smelled smoke."

Aragorn muttered something. If there was one point of contention in his friendship with Legolas, it was Legolas's elven abilities, which Aragorn did not have. Aragorn's only abilities were things like The Ability To Get Blood Everywhere and The Ability to Suffer Excruciating Pain Without Throwing Up and The Ability To Make Enemies Who Hate Your Guts So Much They'd Like To Remove Them From Your Body . These are not fun abilities to have, unlike cutesy little abilities like The Ability To Smell Smoke From Far Away.

"Come quickly!" Legolas said, and darted through some foliage that was not (yet) on fire. Aragorn followed.

They ran and ran, coughing and choking, until at last they were forced to halt for a moment so that Aragorn wouldn't pass out. They stood and stared about, trapped, bewildered, and unhappy.

"Aragorn," said Legolas, "I wish I could tell you that it's been nice knowing you... but really, if you want the truth, most of the time it's just been — painful"

Aragorn coughed a bit, and then nodded. "I know," he said.

"In fact," said Legolas, who was slightly panicky and trying not to show it, "sometimes I wonder if I'm _disturbed _or something. I mean, what normal elf is stupid enough to get into one bad situation after the other, practically nonstop, _all the time_? Shouldn't I have learned my lesson? Do I have some kind of disabling short-term memory loss problem that prevents me from remembering _how much I hate this_?"

Aragorn coughed some more. He was coughing so much that he couldn't really hear Legolas. Later Legolas would feel very, very grateful for this mortal inability of Aragorn's.

Like most wood Elves, Legolas had been taught to hate and fear fire for a very long time. His upbringing hadn't done him much good. If it had made any sort of impact, he wouldn't even have been in such a situation. The first scent of smoke would have sent him sprinting through the underbrush, screaming for help. He did not do this. Instead he stood still and tried not to hyperventilate. He knew that he was supposed to stop, drop, and roll, but as he was not yet on fire, this seemed like a rather extravagant precaution.

He gazed all around, his grey eyes huge. Then he took a deep breath of vile smoke, grabbed Aragorn by the arm, and sprinted through the forest with the human in tow. Aragorn, doubled over and wheezing, did not enjoy this part of the adventure. Legolas enjoyed it still less.

Legolas has an elven ability that is actually useful. It is called The Ability To Sense Nearby Bodies Of Water During Forest Fires.

* * *

"Is that smoke?" 

"Sorry. What did you say?"

"Is that smoke?"

"Where?"

"Over there."

"Mm. Yes. Looks like it."

"It might be a fire."

"Oh, do you really think so?" (Sarcastically.)

(A glare.)

"Lord Elrond should be alerted."

"Yes."

"You run along and find him, then."

"_Me_?"

"You spotted the smoke in the first place. Good for you. Run along and tell Lord Elrond. He'll want to know. I, on the other hand, want to finish painting this elaborate portrait of a bowl filled with tomatoes."

(With great indignation.) "Paintings of tomatoes aren't _portraits._"

"Mm. Sorry. What did you say?"

"It would only be a portrait if you happened to be a tomato yourself, and you aren't. You're completely the wrong color and shape."

"Was that an insult?"

Argument begins, and rapidly escalates. The tomatoes are inevitably used as projectiles and instruments of retribution. The violence continues.

Elves tend to be immortal. We assume that we have time to spare for this sort of thing.

* * *

Two individuals, out in the forest, were running both out of time and towards safety. Legolas was living through yet another one of his worst nightmares, but he was used to that. At least he was living, he thought. He reached the lake, flung Aragorn into it (using his Superior Strength), and plunged in after him. 

"I can't remember this lake," Aragorn said at last, treading water and coughing less. "Was it here before?"

"Before...?"

"Well, before me, for instance," Aragorn said.

Legolas thought for a moment, but could not remember the lake either. However, Legolas was not overly familiar with the wood near Rivendell. The wood near Rivendell was a pleasant place and he was not accustomed to pleasant places. For some reason, Legolas generally ended up in parts of Middle-earth where you would never even _think_ to send your prince on holiday.

"I like this lake," Aragorn said. "This is a nice lake. If it weren't for this lake, you and I would be fried by now."

"Yes," Legolas said, glancing up at the raging inferno on all sides of the lake. Legolas felt that they weren't quite safe just yet.

A confused, irritated beaver began to swim in wide, stealthy circles around them.

* * *

The sun had set. Lord Elrond, Glorfindel, and I sat in the Hall of Fire. Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel were consoling each other, and I was watching. The sight was not an unusual one. I think Glorfindel became the second-in-command in Rivendell because he's so good at cheering Elrond up. Temporarily, of course. No one thinks of my own feelings in this matter, or realizes that good as Glorfindel is at cheering Elrond, he's even more skilled at driving me crazy. 

"They may come back soon," Glorfindel said for the third time.

For the first time that evening, the words actually sunk in. Elrond lifted his head and gave the Elf a shrewd look. "What makes you say that?" he asked.

"Ah, er," said Glorfindel.

I stifled a smirk to see his attempt at consoling Elrond being flung back in his face. Watching Glorfindel cheer up Elrond can be quite entertaining sometimes.

The truth is that when something bad happens to Aragorn and Legolas, they never, ever come back by the next morning. Actually, I think they might have managed it once. Just once. An event that occurs once does not institute a trend. I considered pointing this out and thought better of it. Elrond and Glorfindel could figure it out.

At this moment, just when Glorfindel was tentatively patting Elrond on the back, looking as though he thought Elrond might bite him, an Elf-maiden dashed through the door, disheveled and wild-eyed.

"Fire!" she said.

"Fire?" Elrond, Glorfindel, and I said.

"Fire! Yes!"

"Where?"

"Over there!" the woman cried, pointing in a general easterly direction.

Elrond, Glorfindel and I looked at each other. I could see the same thought reflected in our eyes: Legolas + Aragorn + forest fire equals pain + suffering (less than or equal to) possible grisly death (x 2).

We were still envisioning Aragorn and Legolas as toast, and trying not to, when the woman gave a little sigh and swooned delicately into Glorfindel's arms. Her taste in men might have been dubious, but I must say her aim was good.

* * *

It began to rain. Yes, Elrond was informed of the forest fire and minutes later, it began to rain. Yes, this was not a coincidence. And no, I can't tell you any more than that. State secrets, you know. 

"Ugh," Aragorn said. "Now I'm really wet."

The beaver circled Aragorn and Legolas yet again. The rain was falling so hard that the little animal was beginning to wonder which parts of its world were lake and which parts were air. The beaver was disgruntled. In its mind, Aragorn and Legolas were to blame for its adverse circumstances.

"Ack," said Aragorn. "Something furry touched me. Was that... you, Legolas?"

Legolas was offended. "I'm not furry," he said.

"Ack," Aragorn said again, beginning to thrash about. "There's something furry in here, and it keeps on brushing up against me!"

Through what practically amounted to a wall of falling water, Legolas could see the blurry shape of Aragorn splashing and gasping. Smoke from the fizzled-out fire obstructed his vision yet more, and— did I mention that it was night? It was. The fire was out, and it was dark.

"Are you all right?" Legolas yelled.

"It's got me!" Aragorn said, thrashing still more. "It's got me!"

"What?" asked Legolas. Legolas was becoming more waterlogged than any Elf likes to be, and his elven hearing was impaired by the noise of the rain.

"_It's got me!_"Aragorn said again. He could feel the forceful _tug, tug _on his clothes caused by a beaver trying to remove a human from its territory.

Legolas swam over. "_What did you say?_" he yelled in Aragorn's ear.

"_The furry thing has got me!_"

This made an impact. "Furry thing—?" Legolas gasped faintly.

"We have to get out of here!" Aragorn yelled.

They swam to shore. They dragged themselves out of the water. For a few moments, they lay still, trying not to drown in the downpour.

The rain switched off. Aragorn and Legolas lay limp and exhausted in the shallows.

A time passed.

The beaver's wife emerged from the lodge and waddled onto the shore. She was inquisitive and not unfriendly. Unlike her husband, she was more fascinated than annoyed by Aragorn and Legolas's presence.

She waddled over and thrust her furry beaver-face into Aragorn's less furry ranger-face. Aragorn opened his eyes. From his vantage point, all he could see were big orange teeth looming threateningly over his nose.

"Aaah!" said Aragorn.

* * *

Aragorn and Legolas showed up the next morning in Rivendell, bedraggled, filthy, and traumatized. Even though something bad had happened to them, they had returned the next day! Everyone was delighted. Even if an event occurs twice, it does not institute a trend. I hope Elrond and Glorfindel realize this and spare themselves further disappointments later on. 

"Aragorn!" cried Lord Elrond. "You're back!"

"I tink I hab a colb," Aragorn said, and sneezed.

Aragorn spent his birthday in bed.

* * *

Two days later, when Aragorn had ceased to have a fever and hallucinations, he woke up to find Legolas sitting at his bedside. 

"Good morning," Legolas said. He thought,_ I suppose I've often complained about all the pain and suffering I endure at Aragorn's side, but clearly it could be worse: I could be a mortal. It seems like all the particularly disgusting things happen to mortals. Or maybe just to Aragorn._

"Legolas," croaked Aragorn. He thought, _Some time during the past two days, while I have been suffering, feverish, and hallucinating, Legolas has had a bath. _He scowled.

Now, it seems to me that Aragorn and Legolas truly are good friends, but even good friends get on each other's nerves sometimes, and Legolas and Aragorn found themselves in many situations where their nerves were frayed nearly to the breaking point. Despite all their trials and all their disagreements, they continued to fight danger side by side. All this is to say that Aragorn's scowl and Legolas's mild revulsion did not last very long. Legolas was not a mortal, and Aragorn did not really care for baths.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Legolas said.

"So am I," Aragorn said.

It is the popular belief that Aragorn and Legolas have many long, poignant conversations with each other as one keeps vigil over the other's sickbed. This is not the case.

"Legolas," said Aragorn, "we have not yet slain the creature that attacked you."

"No," said Legolas. "We haven't."

Both the elf and ranger felt that failure did not become them. They were not used to it. One of the things about them that astonishes me most is their innate inability to give up. They're incredibly stubborn, and they persist, persist, persist until any problem they face falls apart in despair of stopping them. Their earlier forest fire experience had not given them good enough cause to end their quest.

Glorfindel and I entered the sickroom and saw that Aragorn and Legolas were planning to go forth to slay Legolas's assailant. They had a certain glint in their eyes.

"Wait," Glorfindel said, holding up one hand to halt them. "Before you do anything rash, you must be told more about the monster you face."

"Even if its teeth are as long as my arm and its body three times as big as mine—" said Legolas.

"Even if it spits venom and drinks blood and snaps bones with one bite—" said Aragorn.

"—we will face this monster and defeat it," Legolas and Aragorn said in unison.

"You are very brave," Glorfindel said. "However—"

"Its teeth are not as long as your arm, Legolas," I said. "Its body is very small, and it doesn't spit venom, drink blood, or snap bones."

"What does it do?" asked Aragorn, and he began to look slightly worried.

"It chews down trees," I said. I handed him an open book, and pointed to an illustration. "Legolas was attacked by a beaver. In fact, 'attacked' isn't even the proper term for what happened to Legolas. He was just in the wrong place at a bad time."

"Oh," said Legolas.

"Oh," said Aragorn. He had met a creature exactly like the animal in the illustration. While the experience had not been an enjoyable one, he had to admit to himself that the beaver was not dangerous and certainly did not deserve death. His heart sank. "But there _must _be something out there," he said.

"We heard a large creature crashing and stomping in the woods on the very first day of our search," Legolas added.

Glorfindel grinned. "That was Erestor."

"Oh."

Lord Elrond swept into the room. He looked tired but victorious, which is the way he always looks after dragging Aragorn back from the brink of death yet again. After a quick glance at the occupants of the room, he sighed."Erestor," he said, "Glorfindel, I told you both not to tell Aragorn about the beaver until his constitution could handle the shock."

"I'm fine," muttered Aragorn.

Of the two stalwart adventurers, it was actually Legolas who seemed the more shocked. His face turns a particular shade of pink when he's embarrassed that complements his pale hair perfectly.

"It's a pity about your surprise birthday party," Elrond said. "Even if you hadn't become sick, all the party decorations got wet and soggy in the rain. Some of them even disintegrated."

The four of us made sympathetic noises.

"And," Lord Elrond said, "Glorfindel and Erestor have investigated your... accident, Legolas. It would seem that a beaver chewed down a tree, and it fell on top of you. No ill will was involved."

"It's... very good to hear that," Legolas said.

* * *

"Well?" I said afterwards. "Was that all?" 

"What exactly did you want?" Glorfindel asked. "They looked quite devastated enough, I thought."

"But they're always doing dangerous things without any fear of the consequences!" I said. "I hoped that this incident would give them at least some small, slight pause for thought!"

"And you pretend to be pessimistic, Erestor..." Glorfindel murmured.

* * *

Legolas rocked back his chair so that it balanced on only two legs, and put his feet up on Aragorn's bed of sickness. The next few minutes were filled with nothing but a contemplative silence. Aragorn gazed gloomily at the illustration of the beaver and Legolas stared gloomily into space. 

"It's rather cute," Aragorn said at last, slow and thoughtful. "You didn't kick it, did you?"

Legolas winced. "I don't think so," he said. "I mean, in the excitement of the moment, with you yelling so loudly I thought you were being violently savaged, I might possibly have kicked it. Not hard. I'd never seen a beaver before," he added pathetically. "I thought it could be dangerous. You were _acting _as though it were dangerous. I thought it was gnawing your face off."

"I think the entire past week has been the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me," Aragorn said.

"Me too."

"It was quite a departure from our usual schedule," Aragorn said.

"Yes. Quite."

The ensuing silence was much briefer. "Let's find Elladan and Elrohir," said Aragorn after a moment, "and see if we can persuade them to go on a little adventure with us."

"What sort of adventure?" Legolas asked, and his pointed ears literally pricked up with interest. Aragorn found this ability of Legolas's particularly entertaining, and also rather endearing. Having Legolas for a friend was even better than having a pet cat.

"Some adventure in which we get to confront, fight, and defeat villainous characters who deserve to be brought to justice at last," Aragorn said.

"Sounds good," Legolas said. "Elladan and Elrohir enjoy that sort of thing."

"So do we," Aragorn said. "So do we."

"Let's pretend we're going on a hunting trip," Legolas said, "instead of actively seeking out violence, danger, and suffering."

"All right," Aragorn said.

They smiled at each other in perfect agreement.

* * *

So. There are a few conclusions I must draw from the whole unpleasant incident. The first conclusion is that we should not draw conclusions too rapidly. When Legolas and Aragorn jumped to a certain conclusion, they caused themselves (and everyone else) much more trouble than was necessary. The second conclusion is that surprise birthday parties can be hazardous to one's health. (But perhaps you already knew that.) 

To the best of my knowledge, the two beavers continued to lead happy lives down by their lake. If Legolas did actually kick one of them, he did not inflict any lasting damage. The beavers worked busily, and lake grew larger and larger, displacing a number of forest animals and drowning a lot of vegetation. However, I'm told that it's a good place to go fishing, so I suppose things worked out for some people.

Meanwhile, Aragorn and Legolas enlisted Elladan and Elrohir for their adventure. They went on an 'hunting trip' that lasted for four months and involved more blood-loss than you could easily imagine. When they staggered home, they had almost completely forgotten about the whole beaver incident (or so they said). That was the point of the hunting trip, so I'm glad it worked.

Sometimes weird things happen. I'm an Elf; I understand that. But the whole excitement over the beaver felt utterly random, and left me asking, "Why? Why?"

When I asked Glorfindel, he just grinned at me. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Why did the tree even hit Legolas on the head in the first place?"

"Legolas was in the vicinity," Glorfindel said. "Tell me, can you possibly imagine the tree falling with Legolas in the vicinity and _not _hitting Legolas? He was doomed from the moment he entered the forest."

"Why the quest?" I asked. "Why the sudden urge to track down hideous monsters and slay them?"

"That's what Aragorn and Legolas do all the time," Glorfindel said. "Unfortunately, this time they were misinformed. People do make mistakes, you know."

"Why the fire?"

"The fire," Glorfindel said, "was apparently caused by some mortals who were trying to clear the woodland a bit. I'm told that if you burn down some trees, the other trees grow taller and stronger. They have more space."

"Misguided mortals," I said. "Obviously their wonderful little plan didn't have the effect they intended. Now we have a big burnt spot in our forest."

"It'll all grow back," Glorfindel said. I thought he was acting rather flippant for an Elf talking about burnt trees, but he's not a wood-Elf, so maybe that explains it. Actually, Glorfindel acts flippant about a lot of things. Maybe it's just because he's weird.

I thought for a few minutes, during which Glorfindel gabbled happily to himself about something or other. He's a Vanya. I think he was trying to make up a poem.

"But why?" I cried, startling him.

Glorfindel sighed and became serious. When Glorfindel is serious, I always feel that I need to be serious too. He's hardly ever serious, after all. However, when Glorfindel is cheerful, which is much more often, I don't feel like being cheerful. I feel like strangling him. I wonder why that is.

"Listen, Erestor," Glorfindel said solemnly, leaning forward to look me straight in the eyes, "it was fate."

"Fate?"

"Fate, Erestor," Glorfindel said, still deadly serious. He slumped back in his chair and grinned. "You know Aragorn had to suffer through his birthday _somehow_."

I suppose the Aragorn-getting-hurt-on-his-birthday trend was one that none of us could overlook, not even Glorfindel, King of the Dense.

"For once, Glorfindel," I said, "I think you're right."

"I'm always right," he said.

**THE END**


End file.
